Yes, this happened to me.
Yes, I was sexually assaulted.
Yes, as a five year old child.
Yes. I was sexually assaulted. Repeatedly. As a five year old child.
These were the first words I could get out about the ghastly incident.
“When it is dark, look up to the sky”,
The children around told her.
“They twinkle and shine, seem to call you,
Beckon you to fly.”
“Is it the stars you yearn for?”,
She would softly murmur
“It is the darkness I need,
To hide myself, invisible, from the hunter.”
“You are ten!”,
In unison they cried.
“What need have you to run?
To be invisible? To want to hide?”
The truth she then told,
She set it free, let it unfold.
Five years it took her, to find this voice,
Five years and no less, she made her choice.
Black bile, swiftly rose in her throat.
“I met the phallus”, she croaked.
Her brain smoked with hatred,
Her need for revenge, wildly provoked.
She was met with silence.
Piercing and yet, somehow still.
“Go on.. We have no patience.
Narrate to us, the murder of your innocence!”
And so she reached in,
Into the darkest, depthless abyss of her mind
She brought out, into the moonlight,
All the untold secrets she could find.
“It was the mangoes”, she whispered
“And whose trees by the dozen
Only they heard my sobs, witnessed the horror
For which I was chosen.
For the phallus had found my mouth
The ghastly phallus found in its heart
To thrust deep and deeper still,
Paying no mercy to my five year old soul, falling apart.
‘It is all your fault’
Whispered an angelic voice with hate
‘You wanted the mangoes
Your greed left you to this fate.’
Five years I was, and
I wished I wasn’t alive.
I was learning to talk at five,
Hoping that I wouldn’t survive.
The paralyzing pain increased by the seconds,
I am sure his pleasure did the same.
When the painful thrusts stopped, I felt him come.
I then heard him moan out my name.
This must be how it felt, I thought
To be hunted down, to have them rip your soul
To be forever scarred
To never again be whole.”
The smug phallus grew confident
And consumed with passion
It met the broken child week after week
Deaf, to her begging for compassion.
Silence once more, this time different
No heads turned, no eyes wide
They seemed very calm
Seemed to take everything in stride.
Finally, someone got up, slow and seemingly stoic
She said, “Rise you all, everybody!”
Then turning to the girl,
“We will return with the phallus. Severed from his body.”